Disaster
I dream of justice taking its rightful place,
And often cling to warm words, a kind face.
How can my soul fit in this vast domain,
When it can’t find its space in a world so plain?
People do not bow to truth’s command,
So misfortune keeps sweeping the land.
Fires, disasters, explosions in mines,
Our skies have yet to clear and shine.
Though my exterior seems harsh and strong,
My heart is tender, aching all along.
I pour it all onto this blank white sheet—
Every day, disasters and slaughter repeat.
In a peaceful land, turmoil runs so deep,
Let’s hope we won’t end up digging graves to keep.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
